Phobophobia
by taylortighten
Summary: Phobophobia is a phobia defined as the fear of phobias. Everyone has them, some are better hidden than other.
1. Tony Stark

"Fuck!"

"Was that Iron Man?" Captain America questioned, turning from Black Widow in the direction where he heard the swear.

"It certainly does sound like his brand of charm." She piped in, raising a delicate eyebrow and nearing the rubble, ready for a possible fight. There was always the chance that Tony had flown off to get burgers or something, that he wasn't really trapped underneath what was left of a six-story building.

At least, that's what the hope was.

"All right, so, uh, Jarvis has gone a bit silent on me. Guess I'll sit here wondering if anyone else can here me or if maybe this is what hell is like-"

"Iron Man, we hear you, Thor is on his way to help move rubble, and we'll get to you shortly." The Captain started, confident that the other man was completely unharmed, seeing as he was being his usual self under the mess of concrete and steel.

"-Because it's really kind of odd, don't you think? I mean, I always knew I was going to hell, but I didn't ever think it would be so realistic. Hah, that's just what this is all about, right? Hell isn't fire and hard labor for a dude with a spiked tail, it's boring and dirty and-"

"Captain, I don't think he can hear us." Hawkeye commented, raising an eyebrow at the ranting the team was listening to.

"Even more reason for us to aid him." Boasted Thor, dropping his hammer to grab a nearby boulder.

"-Swear to God, if this is all there is for eternity, I really might need to start praying to God, or find some sort of religion. Is it too late if I'm already dead?-"

The rest of the team, (minus the Hulk, who was busy chuckling and smashing the last of the robots with a car he found) began digging, lifting heavy rubbing and checking to make sure there was no sight of the billionaire ahead. Hawkeye was quick to remind Thor that if he moved things too fast, more of the building could collapse on top of Iron Man. Granted, Clint wasn't necessarily saying the Iron Man suit couldn't handle the weight, and that Tony couldn't use the realism of the situation.

"-Makes sense, really, if you think about it... Oh, Jarvis, you're back online? No, no, cranberries are not needed. Blood? Where?"

Steve perked up at that while the rest of the team tuned it out and kept working, struggling through the sheer size of the mess in front of them. Thor was really the only one other than Captain America that could shift enough stone to make a dent, so Hawkeye and the Black Widow sat back, directing the demi-God, arguing about how they should go on.

"Huh, I didn't realize so much blood could come out of an ear. My shoulder too? Huh, so that's why I can't feel my arm." Tony thought aloud, or spoke to Jarvis, sort of. The machinery in the suit was fairly damaged in the crash, but Jarvis' speech was good enough to point out that Tony wasn't dead, just fairly injured.

"Avengers, Iron Man has realized he's not, um, passed on. He is injured though, so be careful that we don't disrupt the fallen building." Cap announced, joining in on the dig, scolding Clint when he didn't join and getting scolded by Natasha when he said she shouldn't participate.

Just over half an hour later, the gap was large enough for the Captain to crawl in and pull off a few last stones from atop Tony.

"Woah! I sure hope that's a hottie straddling me, because this might get really awkward. Especially for the poor suit."

Steve sighed and reached around the Iron Man mask to trigger its release.

"Sorry to disappoint, Iron Man, but in this case, all I can do is straddle you," Immediately after he said that, he frowned and narrowed his eyes at the man below, who had began snickering. "Enough of that, I need to assess the situation from this position because there is not enough room in the tunnel Thor has managed to create."

Before Tony could make any inappropriate remark, Steve went and slid down the armor, sitting right over the metal thighs. Tony decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut, if he wanted to be saved.

"All right, I've got to remove some armor to get you out of here properly. You'll be wedged in if we don't at least get the chest piece off." Cap stated, already fumbling around to see if there was a release like on the helmet.

"No, no, Captain Bossy-pants, that's not happening," The billionaire protested, trying, and failing, to shift himself away from the prodding hands. "All I've got on under this are my velvet boxers. They were a gift from Pepper, I can't let the world see them!" He excused, waving a dented hand in dismissal.

The Captain ignored the complaints, digging his finger under panels and slowly pulling away pieces of the collar and chest and sides, only to reveal bare skin. Bruised and scratched bare skin.

"Iron Man... Tony, we're going to have to get you out of this suit, you look really wounded."

The injured man continued to squirm, getting considerably more upset every time a piece of suit was torn off.

"Release me!" Tony yelled, snatching at one of his captain's hands, struggling so hard he nearly collapsed the small cave they were scrunched in. "Bruce! You can hear me right? Explain to Cap! Fast!"

Steve paused, confusion written across his face, letting the Iron Man suit close back up while he listened to the scientist explain over the com.

"Dishabiliophobia. It means he doesn't like undressing in front of others. Well, in Tony's case, when he's not drunk and in front of a woman."

"Dish... What?" The Captain repeated, shifting around until he could rest back on the balls of his feet, assessing his companion silently, noting the twitching of his fingers and the fear on his face.

"Dishabiliophohia," Bruce repeated, sighing softly. "I read his medical file. He was diagnosed after returning from Afghanistan, after he had to put in the arc reactor. We can pull him out with the armor still on, Steve, don't force him to face his fear head on, not in the midst of all this."

And with that information at hand, Steve had to concede, or leave Tony there, and that was definitely not an option.

Slowly, soon enough with the help of Tony himself and the rest of the Avengers, the suit of armor was pulled out from under the wreckage, crushed and dented and even missing chunks.

Iron Man, as soon as he could stand on his own two feet, muttered a quick thanks to each of the members of his team before giving Bruce a lingering almost-smile. Then, to the surprise of absolutely no one, Tony powered up his suit and flew off, grumbling about having to repair and tinker and build.

* * *

A/N - Okay, so another Avengers multi-parter. Didn't do much research on the phobias, so sorry if they're not completely accurate. Also, js, not really IM3 compliant, but there may be small non-spoilery references because I enjoyed that movie a hell of a lot. The other chapters will get a bit more into the emotions behind the phobia, so stick with me. :)


	2. Steve Rogers

Steve winced, tugging at the tear in the leg of his uniform. There was only a tiny trickle of blood for a rather large cut, but it seemed to be plugged up with dirt and grass. Wrinkling his nose and scrubbing at the mess with the palm of his gloved hand, he didn't even feel the pain, instead focusing on the grime. All he needed was a quick glance around to know that the medics would take a while before getting to his rather lame would. They were too busy dealing with Tony's arm still crushed in his armor and Natasha's very badly broken leg.

In the meantime, Steve found the nearest bathroom- an empty Starbucks on the corner. Rushing in and ripping the hole in his pants even wider, the Captain stumbled around, huffing and puffing and nearly falling over before finally getting his leg up onto the sink counter. He twisted both of the knobs, whimpering and throwing his dirty gloves off as quickly as possible so he could shove his fingers into the wound, scratching at it roughly.

Steve scrubbed and scrubbed, pumping soap into his hand and adding that to the mess. Wincing, this time in pain from the hand soap, he slowed his efforts, but he didn't stop them. Moving his hands more carefully, Steve massaged the soap into the cracked skin and gently washed the dirt out. Steve hesitated when he reached for the soap again, dampening a paper towel and getting that soapy instead of just dumping the liquid cleaner on again.

There was more blood now, which he saw as a good sign: the more blood flow meant there was less dirt in the wound, less grass and grime. He was at it for a mere ten minutes when there was a gentle knocking at the door.

"Steve? You in there?" A small voice asked; obviously the person had been searching for him.

"Doctor Banner?" The super soldier questioned, temporarily abandoning his clean up project in favor of opening the door for his teammate.

"Have you been in here the whole time?" The doctor asked, frowning and bending over to examine the small injury.

"Have you been looking for me?" Steve frowned when Bruce nodded. "I apologize, I just wanted to clean up without disturbing the paramedics."

"I can see that," Bruce commented, plucking at the torn fabric with an eyebrow raised. "You're doing quite a job with nothing but soap and water."

Steve flashed a sheepish smile, heading back over to the sink to scrub at the dirt coating his face and hands.

Bruce watched him carefully, but the Captain didn't notice the odd look, too busy cleaning himself of every speck of dirt to notice. Twisting his body and bringing his leg back up with more grace than before now that he was in less of a panic mode, Steve glanced over his shoulder as he pumped out more soap, a look of shame flashing over his features.

"They called me a germaphobe when I woke up and took an hour to clean myself, even though I wasn't dirty." He told the scientist quietly, knowing he would be asked sooner or later.

"I would call it automysophobia, actually," Banner corrected, stepping closer and watching his friend's actions with no intent to stop him. "You've shaved drink with Clint and Tony, who I expect are both quite germ ridden. It's only after you get particularly dirty during a battle that you disappear."

"Automysophobia." Steve repeated curiously, pausing to look over at Bruce.

The doctor nodded, wetting a paper towel to help wipe at the grunge left on Steve's leg. The super soldier left the cleaning to his friend, knowing he would probably do a better job with his calm hands rather than Steve's own frantic fingers. He always took so long because he couldn't calm himself down enough, but with another pair of hands, the job would get done much faster.

"It means the 'fear of being dirty'," Bruce clarified after a moment of silence, adding more soap to his wet rag. "It's usually coupled with the fear of illness, or infection." Silence stole over them once more while they both washed him up.

"When I was a kid, before all this," Steve motioned to his obvious musculature. "I was constantly sick. Asthma, pneumonia, just about everything you could think of. I stayed inside all the time because my mother warned me that dirt is what made me ill. It's what made her ill."

"Your fear started after she passed?" The good doc filled in, watching his teammate carefully. Steve nodded shortly, clenching his jaw.

"I thought I've always been good at hiding my clean up. Bucky knew about it, but he never managed to catch me in the act."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Gently putting a hand on his shoulder before going back to helping, Bruce smiled encouragingly. The Hulk had moved on to scrubbing at a cut on the back of Cap's arm that he never would have been able to reach himself.

They worked in peace for another few minutes, mulling over their conversation. Bruce understood that fear, and he definitely understood shame. He felt for Steve now that he knew the reasoning behind the disappearances, but the doctor knew better than to show any pity for the man. The soldier would feel even worse if he was pitied, or if anyone else found out, so Bruce tossed his used paper towels and leaned against the sink counter.

"Thanks for helping-" Steve started, obviously hesitant.

"Don't worry about it," Bruce interrupted with a pat to Steve's arm. "I won't tell anyone about it, in case you were wondering."

"I really appreciate it, Doctor, I'm just not ready to share this part of my life with everyone just yet."

Nodding in agreement, Bruce glanced into the mirror hanging in front of the two men, double-checking that his friend looked clean enough that he was willing to leave him alone. The ferocity he had seen in Steve's eyes earlier was long gone, replaced by a near calm smile.

Bruce left, leaving the Captain to stare himself down through his reflection. The image that looked back at him was one that made his heart beat a few paces slower. While they had been talking, the two of them managed to completely scrub Steve of the thick layer of grass and mud stains that littered his body and suit. Even the cuts that were scattered amongst his exposed pieces of skin were hardly dripping blood, now that they were given the breathing room to start healing.

At first, being caught red handed made him anxious, but after being able to talk it out, he felt much more content, fortunate that he was associated with a man that could give him such good assistance without being judgmental. After all, upon first approach, Bruce Banner was seen as the monster hiding beneath the skin, not the compassionate man still buried underneath.

It made Steve feel guilty for considering him to be less of a team member, seeing him more as a wrecking ball than anything else.

When he thought about it, he realized that he unfairly judged the doctor. Not only was the man extremely smart and helpful in his normal, human form, but also the Hulk was much more responsive then he thought he would be. He wasn't a beast that went on a rampage, he was a... creature that went along with commands, did more heavy lifting than even Thor, and still felt like he wasn't good enough to be a part of this team.

After this, Steve would consider him in a brighter light. The man helped him through a moment that could've nearly ruined the soldier.

Steve wouldn't let this fear, this phobia, get to him. He was better than it. And with help from people like Bruce, he would prove that not even deep-rooted fears could hold down the small boy from Manhattan.

* * *

A/N - I only pumped this one out so fast because most of this chapter has been written for months already. The next one shall come soon! And in case you were wondering, Bruce is the almighty God of phobia names. I can picture his character knowing that kind of stuff. Oh, and, pleease fav/review/follow?


	3. Thor

Warning: slightly graphic wound, needles and other doctor-y stuff.

* * *

"You have a broken leg."

"I do not, I am well enough to continue the fight, my friend."

Tony stared at Thor, blinking slowly. Bruce on the other hand, rolled his eyes and waved for the stand-by medics to bring over a stretcher. While the others were all still fighting, Tony was using the strength of Iron Man to keep Thor still enough that he wouldn't ruin his leg even more than he had already.

"Bud, this is more than just a little break-"

"Disagreeable, Man of Iron! 'Tis but a scratch." Thor shook his head, putting his hand out for his hammer but getting stopped by Bruce.

"Thor, this is a compound fracture. You can see the bone in your leg," The doctor helped the medics shove the demi-God onto the stretcher and keep him still enough to get in an IV line. "No matter how well you may feel, this is bad."

Eyes wide and body tense, Thor attempted to through Bruce away, but the pain was getting to him. And the sight of the wound was making him queasy. Not including the horror of watching the IV needle slide under his skin.

He struggled, wincing away from the needle and doing his best to push away Doctor Banner, who had a slight green tinge to his eyes.

"Don't make me use my full force to hold you down, Thor." Bruce groaned, obviously trying not to use the Hulk.

Finally, after ten long minutes of arguing and thinly veiled threats, Thor conceded to visiting the emergency room. The doctor joined him in the ambulance, keeping a firm grip on the demi-God's arm. It was obvious the IV made them both nervous; Thor wanted to rip it out and Bruce wanted to make sure it was enough for a non-human.

Thor was physically a wreck by the time they got to the hospital. Not only was his wound quite disgusting, filled with gravel and museum-debris, but he had tossed himself about the ambulance, refusing to sit still long enough for the medic to even clean the compound break. Because of all the movement, the bone seemed to be sticking out more than it had before, white peeking through the thick, dirty skin.

At first, the medic said that he'd be off to get a wheelchair to make it easier for Thor, but that just seemed to make him panic even more. His breathing got shallow, eyes twinkling with fright, wildly trying to escape the grip of his teammate.

Bruce, on the other hand, seemed to struggle more with himself than with Thor. The strength he was using was turning his face green, and the frustration with the man's thrashing was getting to him. Only a little bit, but he wouldn't actively admit that. Keeping himself in control was his main focus, more so than keeping Thor from punching a medic and escaping on a badly broken leg.

"There is no need for this, fellow fighter!" The Asgardian argued, trying to pull away. "We must return to the fight, join our brothers- and sister- in arms!" His voice was getting more distraught the close Bruce got to pulling him from the back of the emergency vehicle. Desperation close to the surface made his face flush, his hair mussed with the resistance.

"Thor, this is serious, and anyway, we've already made it all the way here so there is absolutely no way you're getting out of this."

After even more of a challenge getting him from the truck to an exam room, Bruce convinced the nurse to drug Thor up to his eyeballs in the hopes of calming him down. It seemed to work, seeing how Thor stopped trashing and growling, obviously frustrated.

Hours passed, and with the demi-God unconscious, the time passed quite easily. The doctors fixed the break, stitched it up and put a cast on it all before he had time to realize what had happened. That all changed though, once he woke up. Bruce didn't even notice at first, Thor was lying quietly in the bed, hazy from the drugs still. Until he noticed the cast and the stitches peeking over the top and the IV in his hand.

The roar is what caught Bruce's attention, but the loud smash of a machine falling over is what got him turning green.

He had to Hulk out only a little in order to keep Thor from hurting himself even worse. The trouble was, Bruce didn't have much practice in partially Hulking out, so when the nurse came in and screamed, he went full on monster mad. Between Thor throwing a temper tantrum and Banner quickly losing himself to the monster, things were going south. And fast. Thankfully, some sort of sense came over the demi-God and he calmed himself down enough to get the big green guy to go pastel.

"Brother, calm, or you will be a danger." Thor warned, and though that comment could have easily pissed off Bruce (who was the one throwing a tantrum in the first place?), the doctor relaxed slowly and gained control of himself once more.

Once a few minutes passed without a word between either of the men, the tension in the room faded with ease. Thor was still itching and tugging at the IV that Bruce replaced when he was more tan than green. Settled next to the bed, frowning at the trashed equipment that surely would need to be paid for by Shield, Bruce let out a quiet sigh.

"Thor, what was all this about?" He asked, trying to be gentle enough that he didn't sound accusing for the mess that lay around them, but firm enough that Thor didn't feel like he was being babied.

"I apologize, friend, but it was a reaction I committed prior to my thoughts being fully formed on the matter." Thor was obviously sullen, ashamed of what he had done.

Bruce shook his head, now checking over Thor's wounds and making sure he didn't injure himself during those few moments of craziness. There wasn't a tear through any of the visible stitches, but it was certainly redder than it was supposed to be. No doubt some of the stitches beneath the cast ripped and shredded his skin.

"It was more than that, more like you felt your life was on the line," said Bruce, watching the other man squirm under prying fingers and avoiding eye contact. "Is that it?"

"You must understand me, we do not have use of doctors in my world. The injured are not repaired with thread and needles. This place, the people in it and the customs they have, I am not familiar with them."

"They call it iatrophobia. Fear of going to the doctors."

"I am shamed, brother Bruce," the sigh that escaped Thor was pitiful, like he had never felt the feeling before. "This is not how a man in my position should act. I am to be strong, fearful of nothing, yet this is a deplorable scene I have created."

Bruce laid a hand on Thor's giant arm, frowning and nodding. He understood the feeling, absolutely, and he definitely saw where the demi-God was coming from. There was no way Bruce knew how things were back on Asgard, and he would bet every penny he had that he would react the same way if he was being treated with strange magic or aliens. He didn't have the best record for how to handle unfamiliar situations.

"Don't worry, man, you're not the only one who reacts a little over the top."

That got Thor to chuckle heartily, which was a great start to getting the man to relax. Now all Bruce had to do was to get him tranquil enough for the doctor to poke and prod and probably add in a few stitches.

Yeah, like that was going to be easy.

* * *

a/n wow, i'm sorry for the wait. i'll be honest though, this chapter was hard for me. hopefully the next couple wont be so bad, and they'll be finished sooner! i'm really hoping to get this finished before school starts (in two weeks).


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